Lullabies for the Moon
by Greye
Summary: A series of oneshot drabbles-most likely unconnected. Fluff. These will be several different pairings. A birthday gift for my dear sister and fellow writer, Moon's Lullaby. I'm not great at oneshots, but I hope that those who read enjoy! (Lots of FemHarry)
1. Chapter 1

**Greye's Notes:** So here I have the first of my series of drabbles. These will mostly be fluffy in nature, as they are meant to be light-hearted. I'm not as good at oneshots, but I have done my best! As stated in my summary, these fics are a birthday gift for my dear sister **Moon's Lullaby** (hence my oh-so-clever title). Please enjoy them, and help my sister celebrate her birthday by checking out a few of her own fics!

 **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns everything.

* * *

Harriet had been sitting in the Great Hall, very carefully copying a fresh set of notes for Transfiguration from Hermione (she had missed a few days), when Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan erupted into a brawl just down the table from her, both boys sprawling onto the table and knocking over everything from platters of eggs to goblets of pumpkin juice.

Immediately the raven-haired witch leaped back, trying to avoid the flying food and drink. She instinctively grabbed the book she had been using for reference, but in her haste forgot the notes she had been so painstakingly transcribing. Her green eyes burned with frustration and disappointment as she saw them saturated with pumpkin juice.

Just as she resigned herself to either studying up on a juice removal charm, or starting the notes over, she watched in stunned surprise as the juice evaporated out of the parchment-leaving nothing but the dry pages behind. Harriet's curious emerald eyes rose and she immediately spied the wand-and wizard-responsible. "George?" She asked in surprise, recognizing the red-haired, blue-eyed Weasley twin.

It wasn't that the Weasley twins weren't good guys, but Harriet wouldn't have thought to include them on a list of particularly chivalrous people (more likely, she'd put them on a list of _mischievous_ people). George flashed a brilliantly white smile at her. "One moment, dear Harriet." He walked down the table to where Dean and Seamus were still wrestling-over Merlin knew what-and flicked his wand at them. " _Aguamenti._ " Water sprayed from the end of his wand, effectively hosing down the two boys who immediately separated, sputtering in indignation. George shook his head, a faintly amused smile playing about his mouth. "Gits. Take your brawl outside like civilized men. You're making a mess of things." The two boys glanced around a little guiltily before shuffling out of the Hall. Harriet watched them go. She was sure she'd hear all about their little tiff later.

George came back to Harriet then, and gathered up her notes with a flourish before handing them to her. "I think your best bet may be to finish these in the library. Less pumpkin juice there." He flashed another dazzling smile, and Harriet found herself momentarily breathless. Which was strange, because she had never really thought much of either of the twins before. They had always been just...well, Ron's older, somewhat eccentric brothers. Rarely did Harriet Potter find herself speechless, and it was a few seconds more before she found her voice

"T-thank you George. I appreciate the help. Maybe you could teach me that charm-the one you used to get rid of the pumpkin juice? I suspect that it will be useful in future." She accepted her pages from him gratefully and carefully tucked them and her book into her bag. Harriet offered him a smile of her own.

George gave a nod of agreement. "Sure. Fred and I use it all the time." He winked, "Experimenting can lead to some unfortunate results." He chuckled, and Harriet found a faint blush rising in her cheeks. Perhaps she hadn't given the Weasley twins enough credit for their charm.

"Well, thanks again. I think I will head to the library, I want to get these finished. Hermione will be wanting them back." Harriet turned to leave the Hall, and was surprised when George fell into step with her. She glanced at him in with one inky eyebrow lifted, and he smiled sheepishly.

"I hope you don't mind," the normally confident, cheeky twin voice had been replaced with a meeker, more timid version. "But I'd rather like to walk you to the library..." Blue eyes gazed at her earnestly, honestly. Harriet found herself tongue-tied for the second time that morning.

Pink rose in her cheeks. This would never do. She was Harriet Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived. Surely she could handle some normal conversation. She swallowed and managed to find her voice again. "Erm, okay. I don't mind." They walked in comfortable, if slightly awkward silence for a few moments, Harriet's eyes seeking out anything to look at other than the tall Weasley twin beside her. There wasn't much besides the normal Hogwarts' stone corridors, however, and Harriet wasn't much one for silence anyway. "George...this may seem a strange question, but why all this? I mean, I appreciate the help with my notes and all, but why...?" She left her words hanging a bit, to encompass his odd behavior today. Why had he helped her? Why break up the fight? Why did he want to accompany her to the library? She had never before seen any indication that the older Weasley was in any way interested in her, so she couldn't imagine what was going on.

George shifted rather uncomfortably, and rolled his blue eyes up to the ceiling, as if it would give him an answer. Finally, "Do you mind if I ask you a question first, before I answer yours?" Harriet frowned and let out a huff.

"That's not exactly how this is supposed to work," her voice was slightly irritated, "but I guess. What do you want to know?" Harriet's genuine curiosity won out against her stubborn nature. What answer could she provide to George that would explain his actions?

George stopped and turned to face her, an action that lent sudden gravity to his words. Harriet took a breath, unsure what to expect. Her eyes met his, and she was startled to see the usually merry, mischievous blue now darker and more serious than she had ever seen them.

"Harriet," George began, voice low and meant for her ears. "I need to know. How, exactly, can you tell that I am George? I could just as easily be Fred."

A frown creased her brow. Of all the questions he could ask, this wasn't one she had considered. It wasn't one that had even registered. She opened her mouth to answer straight away, but paused when she saw the intensity on George's face. This was really important to him, she realized. She pressed her lips together and reached out to gently take his arm. His face registered suprise, but he followed her willingly enough into a shadowed alcove. What she wanted to say wasn't exactly a secret or anything, but she wanted to respect something that seemed to matter so much to him.

The raven-haired seeker turned back to the twin. "Now, what I was going to say was-" Harriet's voice was cut off by the lips suddenly pressed against her own. She froze, unsure what to do. Luckily, George seemed to realize that he had caught her off-guard, and pulled back hastily. George's face flushed as red as his hair as Harriet gazed at him dazedly.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I guess I misread that a bit."

Emerald eyes were a bit dazed as she gazed at the tall Weasley twin in an entirely knew light. It took her a few moments to catch her breath. What was she going to say?

"Yeah..." That was the most intelligent response she could muster at the moment. The young witch gave herself a shake, and forced herself to meet George's eyes.

"What I was _going_ to say," she continued, the tone of her voice and choice of inflection caused a whole new blush to George's fair features (Harriet felt somewhat vindicated by that-teach a boy to just go around kissing anyone he likes!) "Is that of course I know you're George. You couldn't possibly be Fred, anymore than I could be Pansy Parkinson." She paused and grimaced. "Well, that may be an exaggeration. What I mean is, you are two different people. You share many similar traits, but you aren't completely identical." George seemed to be hanging on her every word. Harriet frowned faintly, but continued. "For example, I noticed that you usually wear your hair just a little bit different-you favor a messier look than Fred-he keeps a neater side part than you do. And personality wise, I think that you are more likely to step out of your perpetual merriment-like you did today. I guess I mean you're a little more aware of your surroundings I think than Fred. Just an..just an example." Her voice faded beneath the intensity of George's stare, and she was beginning to feel just a little unnerved until he suddenly smiled.

His blue eyes were smiling too, genuinely happy-and something else. "Thank you, Harriet. Fred and I-we've gone our whole lives and almost no one can tell us apart." He shrugged a shoulder. "Mum can, when we aren't deliberately trying to trick her, but even Dad gets confused on a regular basis." That now familiar, sheepish look came to his face again. "I thought, well we thought maybe you had a spell or something, because you can always seem to tell us apart, even though we don't really spend so much time together." He grinned. "Guess you're just special."

It was Harriet's turn to blush bright red, and she found her eyes looking at her shoes. George's eyes became gentle and he leaned in to press his lips to her cheek in a sweet, innocent gesture. "You are special, Harriet Potter. And not just because you're the Girl-Who-Lived. Don't let anyone tell you different." George backed out of the alcove, an impish look in his eye. "And by the way..."

A large grin crossed the Weasley's face. "I'm only joking, I am Fred!" He whirled and took off down the hall.

Harriet blinked dazedly. A strange warmth bloomed in her chest as she traced her lips; this had been her first kiss. And then her mind caught up with his words, and an angry flush spread over her face. Notes forgotten, Harriet Potter flew from the alcove and took off after a laughing Weasley twin.

"George Weasley! Get back here, you ruddy liar!" Despite her seemingly angry words, Harriet Potter had the faintest smile curling her lips as she followed the laughter of one George Weasley, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long while.

* * *

 **Greye's Notes:** Hey little sister, hope you enjoyed this first installment! More to come.


	2. A Flinty Encounter

**Greye's Notes:** Hello hello! Here is my second installment to the Lullabies-barely making my once a week promise! Hope you enjoy this latest short.

 **Disclaimer:** Don't own it. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter!

* * *

Harriet was furious. Currently, the young Gryffindor stood fuming in her team's quidditch tent. Her fists were balled at her sides, her green eyes rage filled, and her chest heaving. Again. _Again!_

The rest of her team was gone now, the match finished, but Harriet had remained behind to get ahold of herself. Her efforts were proving futile as her brain replayed the match over and over. They had lost, to Slytherin no less!, and all because Marcus Flint liked to play dirty. Somehow, Madame Hooch never witnessed Slytherin's flagrant displays of aggression and cruelty-like this match, when Marcus Flint had snagged a bat from one of his beaters and deliberately pounded a bludger directly at Harriet. She hadn't been after the Snitch or doing anything but watching the match, flying around, and keeping her eyes open for any flicker of gold. The bludger had nearly broken her arm. Had she not seen it coming and rolled with it in midair, it would have.

Harriet gritted her teeth. And somehow, only her own team had seen it. It was ludicrous. Utterly ridiculous. And then, to top it off? Harriet had lost Gryffindor the game when she had retaliated. When she realized that the bludger was deliberate, she had hexed the hell out of Marcus Flint. How was it her fault he had fallen off his broom?

She knew it had been stupid on her part to get carried away as she had-but it galled her to know that he could do as he liked, but the moment any Griffindor thought to repay Slytherin in kind for their cruelty, they were the ones reprimanded. "Bloody hell." She muttered, scuffing the ground with her boot in frustration. And now her team was angry with her. They understood her actions, but not the cost of them. They kept saying, why didn't you wait until _after_ the game to hex him? Couldn't you have caught the Snitch _first?_

Really, Harriet thought, she had been doing well so far. Marcus found a way to foul her almost every game, and she had never once lost her cool until now. Didn't that deserve some recognition? Didn't that count for anything? She let out another angry breath before deciding it was best to head back to the castle. She was tired and hungry, and wasting time being angry about something she couldn't change right now was pointless. Harriet Potter took a few deep breaths and carefully straightened her robes before casting a quick glance around the tent, eyes gliding over the table and benches, mini lockers, and the Gryffindor practice ball set before coming to rest on her broom. Nothing else she needed to take. Harriet hefted her broom, and exited the tent.

Night had fallen on Hogwarts, and so Harriet picked her way carefully back across the grounds. She could easily have lit her wand, but she found some kind of perverse pleasure in making herself walk back in the dark, especially with the overcast sky. Like a childish punishment for her foolishness.

"Hey Potter." A disembodied voice floated out of the darkness, tone somewhat teasing...maybe condescending? Harriet immediately pulled her wand and lit it with a muttered word. Standing directly in front of her, was her current nemesis Marcus Flint. A smirk played about his lips, and his face was set in familiar lines of condescension. Rage filled her.

"What the bloody hell are you playing at, Flint?" She snarled. Her fury from before, so recently brought under control, flared anew within her. Harriet felt her hand trembling, and realized suddenly that she had her wand up and pointed directly at Flint. She had no knowledge of the movement, but she was just fine with the outcome. "Talk fast or I will hex you so bad even Madame Pomfrey will have a hard time putting you back together!"

The Slytherin boy's grey eyes widened in feigned worry before his smirk widened. "Didn't hex me so bad last time, did you? I'm not worried." Green eyes narrowed, and Harriet lifted her wand, mouth already forming the words to the Bat Bogey Hex.

Suddenly Flint put up his hands in surrender. "Wait, wait!" Harriet frowned. Gone was the condescension. Gone was the smirk, and she could sense no sarcasm in his voice now. Her words faltered, and Harriet hesitantly lowered her wand. It wasn't really in her nature to hex someone without reason. (Not that Marcus Flint hadn't given her plenty) Still, she kept her wand ready and the words close to mind.

" _What_ already?" She finally spat when Flint appeared unable to say anymore. The older boy sighed and ran a hand back through his dark, messy hair. His grey eyes looked confused and unsure thought Harriet, unlike their usual cold, flinty appearance. Strange. Could this be a trap of some kind? But why bother? Slytherin had already won the game-there would be no point in wasting precious celebration time in ambushing her. Still, her eyes cautiously scanned her surroundings before returning to Flint. "Flint-Marcus, come on. What is it? I want to get back to the castle." Her use of his first name seemed to bring him around, and Marcus took a breath.

The Slytherin captain shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Look, Potter...Harriet?" He paused to see if she'd say anything to his using her first name, but Harriet's face remained impassive. He kept going. "I just wanted to say...good game." He met her eyes briefly before looking away, and Harriet had the distinct impression that this was not what he had actually wanted to say, though she couldn't fathom what else there could be. A frown creased her brow as she registered her words, and her anger rose to simmer again in her gut.

"What do you mean, "good game"?" She could feel her voice rising. "How dare you? It's you're fault Gryffindor lost! You cheated, and I took the damn fall for it!" The _gall_ of this Slytherin amazed her. Did he really wait around for her, just to rub it in her face? Harriet shoved past him, fury driving her but reason recommending she not hex him into oblivion since she'd already gotten into trouble for that once today. She couldn't believe this-even after winning the Slytherins couldn't leave her alone. She heard feet running after her, and Flint was in front of her again, his expression strangely remorseful and almost pleading.

"Wait Harriet, wait a minute! That's not what I mean-damn it I'm no good with words. I just meant that...you know...good job. You played a clean game-you guys probably would have won." He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, and Harriet stared at him in perplexity.

What the _hell_? "I, erm..." Marcus fumbled over his words, eyes looking off into the darkness, unable to meet Harriet's. "I'm sorry. For what I did. It wasn't right, hitting that bludger at you."

Now Harriet's eyes were opened wide in surprise, though hers was genuine. Were her ears deceiving her, or was Marcus Flint apologizing? She didn't know what to say to that, but it didn't seem to matter as Marcus pushed on.

"When you hexed me back...well, I definitely deserved it." Now he met her eyes, rather sheepishly. "I guess I didn't realize how much fire you had in you until today. Or if I did, I wasn't letting myself acknowledge it." He rocked uncomfortably on his feet. "I know I'm kind of low on your list of potential...whatevers...but well." Suddenly Marcus leaned forward, and Harriet stood frozen in surprise as he pressed his lips to her cheek. He quickly leaned back and cleared his throat as a flush spread over his cheeks. "If you'd, ah, ever be interested in-" But Harriet had heard enough.

"Nope! No. Not gonna happen." She had regained control of her faculties and marched around and past Flint. "No way Slytherin! I'm just going to pretend this never happened." She called over her shoulder. This time no footsteps followed her, and Harriet found herself alone again. This was good, because her mind was on overload. Marcus Flint had kissed her. Marcus Flint, Slytherin Quidditch Captain had _kissed_ her. Albeit on the cheek, but even so. He had asked her out; or he was going to. Was the world ending? Because it seemed like the world was ending. The thought that this was all a joke lingered in her mind uneasily, and Harriet grimaced in displeasure at the thought. She wouldn't put it past a Slytherin to try something as underhanded as baiting someone and then humiliating them.

With great relief Harriet looked up and saw Hogwarts looming before her, lights still on in the Great Hall. She ascended the steps quickly and came into the Great Hall, letting out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding when she saw everyone else sitting and eating, perfectly normal. So not the end of the world. Unconsciously, her hand drifted up to touch her cheek, fingers lingering over where he had kissed her. Was he serious, she wondered as her legs carried her toward her usual spot? Or was this some prank? His eyes had seemed so nervous, she had a hard time thinking he was lying. He had been absolutely horrible to her the past years, and this year too-that was not exactly how one was supposed to express interest in another person. She sat down between Katie and Angelina, ignoring their talk for a moment as her brain processed. Or was this like a playground thing, where boys had this annoying penchant for knocking down the girls that they liked?

Well, Harriet thought suddenly, her back straightening into a stiff, proud posture at the table. If Marcus Flint thought he had a chance with her, he was going to have to get off the playground, and start playing the game. Properly this time, no cheating allowed. Her eyes lifted just in time to see the object of her inner debate enter the Great Hall. She tracked him across the Hall until he sat with Slytherin. After a moment it seemed he felt her eyes on him and looked up to meet them. She gazed at him steadily until she caught a faint smile on his lips. _Ah,_ she thought, correctly interpreting his expression, _challenge accepted._

* * *

 **Greye's Notes:** Hey! And here is oneshot number 2. Not as fluffy as the last one, but enjoyable none the less I hope!


	3. Flint and Steel make fire Who's Steel?

**Greye's Notes:** So I've not posted a story in two weeks. I am a terrible sister! No excuse but work and laziness. So here dear sister is this installment-I hope that you enjoy it! I'll try to add another this weekend yet to bring me back up to the correct story count.

One Note-this is a continuation of the last chapter. I decided that a second Flinty Encounter was in order.

* * *

Harriet feinted left for a moment, drawing off the Slytherin Seeker from her true goal before bring her broom around in a hairpin swerve to the right that nearly unseated her as she bore down on the Snitch. Slytherin's Seeker shot past her in the other direction, trying to bring their broom around to follow. Unfortunately for them, Harriet's Firebolt wasn't about to lose to a mere Nimbus 2001. She did admit though that this Seeker was better than Slytherin's previous Seeker-Malfoy. Even his father's donation of the brooms to the team wasn't enough to keep such a shoddy player on for long.

Harriet's fingers closed confidently around the Snitch and she heard the stands around her erupt into a loud cheer as Lee Jordan's voice boomed, "Gryffindor Seeker Harriet Potter has captured the Snitch! 150 points to Gryffindor!" She heard Madame Hooch's whistle, and then found herself surrounded by a mass of red and gold as her team converged upon her, happy and laughing. The team descended from the air together, arms wrapped around each other as they celebrated their victory, adrenaline pounding at the continuing chant of " _Go Go Gryffindor"_ echoing around them. Harriet didn't spare a glance for the green and silver figures slinking back to their Quidditch tent.

Harriet found herself alone in the Gryffindor tent once again, enjoying the quiet, satisfied stillness after their big win over Slytherin. Being around her energized team had been wonderful-but Harriet still struggled in large crowds sometimes, and was finding equal pleasure currently in being quietly alone. She sat on one of the benches by the lockers and took in a slow breath. The game had been intense, certainly. Slytherin almost won despite her catch of the Snitch. The fact was they just had good Chasers. Well, one really good Chaser in particular. Slytherin had lost by a narrow margin of twenty points.

She frowned. Really though, it had been strange. This game, she hadn't been fouled once. At least, not deliberately. There had been that moment at the start of the game when one of the Slytherin Chasers had collided with her as a result of being hit by a bludger themselves-but there had been no attempt made to hurt or unseat her all game. At least, none that she had caught. That wasn't to say that the rest of her team had received any reprieve. No, Slytherin had been just as hard on them as they had always been. But Harriet had somehow escaped unscathed-and this had allowed her to search for the Snitch in relative safety. She wasn't sure what to make of it, because Slytherin had never been known for their fair-mindedness. Perhaps it had just been luck?

A sneaking suspicion in the back of her mind persuaded her otherwise.

It had been over a month since Marcus Flint had approached her that night on her way back to Hogwarts, and this had been the first Gryffindor/Slytherin match since. It would be the last match between them too if Slytherin didn't beat Ravenclaw in the next match too. Had Flint really made a conscious decision to play a relatively clean game? Was it possible?

Harriet passed a hand over her face and got to her feet, fatigue weighing her down. Perhaps...perhaps this was the Slytherin Captain's way of making an effort. His first step in meeting her challenge.

Harriet picked up her Firebolt, which had been leaning against the "command" table, as Angelina called it, and left the tent. Hogwarts was dark again, and she could see that the Great Hall was dark too. She'd missed dinner, but that was alright. She wasn't really hungry anyway.

It wasn't until she'd reached the front doors that she heard the familiar voice she hadn't realized she'd been waiting for.

"Hey, Harriet." Marcus Flint seemed to materialize out of the darkness, but Harriet knew it was just her eyes adjusting to his shape in the poor light from the stars. Marcus was leaning against the cold stone of the wall beside the front door. She could tell he'd been waiting for her a while-he as still in his Quidditch robes. The Slytherin boy pushed off the wall and took a few steps toward her before stopping. Harriet continued until she was just a couple of feet from him before halting herself.

"Marcus." She greeted, voice neutral. It was a far cry from friendly, but it was also lightyears away from the cold, angry voice she'd used before. Marcus seemed to pick up on it, and his grey eyes lightened.

"Good game." His words came fast, like he was excited, but he kept his voice soft too. Harriet raised an eyebrow.

"Good game." She responded. The young witch paused for a moment, debating leaving it at that, but figured she had to give him something. "It was nice to play the game without worrying so much about...interference." That was the closest Harriet would get to saying "thanks". He had been the one cheating anyway-she shouldn't have to thank him for playing fair. But it still felt right to acknowledge his obvious effort. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling a little anxious now. What did he want this time?

A faint smile flashed across the Slytherin's face so fast she would have missed it if she'd blinked. "You're not a target anymore." He declared, as if that was some great mercy. Harsh words rose swiftly to Harriet's lips, but Marcus continued speaking. He either anticipated her response and cut her off deliberately, she thought, or he was oblivious to her irritation. "But you are a challenge. A challenge I will meet." This time, she knew she saw the smile.

"Marcus, you've got a lot of work to do if you think-" Her words broke off as a delicate flower, a white lily, appeared before her. Without thinking she raised a hand and took it carefully by the tender green stem. She stared at the flower, a hundred thoughts and a dozen feelings running through her rapidly. Had he chosen a lily on purpose? Did he know she liked white flowers, or was that coincidence? Harriet's green eyes rose to meet Marcus' grey ones, and when he read the confusion in hers, he spoke again.

"I am going to show you a different side of Marcus Flint," his voice came steadily in the night. "Try not to hold my past misdeeds against me"

She lifted the flower to her nose and breathed in the comforting scent as another smile came to Marcus' face, this time Harriet tentatively mirrored it with one of her own. Marcus' tall form leaned forward then in a surprisingly elegant bow, reminding Harriet that he likely came from a pureblood family with old traditions. Tentatively, the older boy reached for her hand, and Harriet surprised herself by allowing him to take it. Marcus' hand was large and warm around her own, and his voice reflected that steady warmth. "I'll see you again soon, Harriet." She felt the lightest touch of lips to her hand, and then Marcus was gone, only the dark of night before her.

* * *

Marcus Flint stood just inside the huge front door of Hogwarts, his heart beating erratically against his chest. He could hardly believe he had managed to pull off such a cool air when the entire time he'd been sweating and wondering if he was about to have a heart attack. With a start, the Slytherin boy realized there was still a goofy grin on his face, and he managed with some effort to get rid of it, replacing it instead with his trademark sneer. Just in time too, as another Slytherin wandered by, headed back to the common room. The other boy gave Flint a brief nod, and continued on his way. Marcus waited until he was a ways ahead before heading back to the common room himself.

As he walked, Marcus ran over the events of the day in his mind. He had given his team strict orders _not_ to play dirty with the Gryffindor Seeker. They hadn't liked it-had liked it less when they lost-but he had managed to convince them by saying they should lay off for a while, because they were getting to0 obvious and Madame Hooch might say something. He couldn't tell them the real reason of course, that he was developing feelings for the feisty Gryffindor Harriet Potter. No, they would never understand. Marcus hardly understood himself.

There was something about that mane of wild dark hair and those intense green eyes though that arrested him, a captivating aura that he knew now had affected him for a long time, and was likely the reason he had been so hard on the girl up until now. He felt ashamed to think he'd let himself respond so immaturely to his feelings. At first, the fact she was a Gryffindor was enough to keep him away. But after she'd hexed the hell out of him, Marcus couldn't deny his growing desire to get to know the girl. She had made it clear that night though that she had wanted nothing to do with him. Marcus had come up with a new plan.

A plan so simple, he doubted most of his fellow Slytherins would have considered it a "plan" at all. He, Marcus Flint, was going to do his damndest to be kind to Harriet Potter. While not really in his nature, he found himself willing to do things for her that he would never had considered before. His grey eyes glinted in the dark as he drew nearer his dungeon common room. And he was planning to pull out all the stops to get her to go with him to Hogsmeade this weekend.

* * *

Harriet Potter continued to stand outside the great main doors of Hogwarts for a time. A shiver passed through the-Girl-Who-Lived, and it had nothing to do with the dark night. It had even less to do with any dark threats she currently faced. It had everything to do with a boy. Not a situation she had ever considered finding herself in, Harriet concluded as she ascended the last few steps into Hogwarts, but not necessarily a bad one. A smile curled her lips as she beheld the white lily in her hand. Somehow she knew it would never wilt. It would remain forever as fresh as it was on the day Marcus Flint declared his intentions. That left Harriet with a very beautiful reminder of an important decision she had to make. Was she going to give Marcus a chance?

* * *

 **Greye's Notes:** And that's all this time! Thanks for reading. I know this wasn't super fluffy, but I thought it was a good, believable sequel to the last one. Next chapter will probably be an all new pairing. Stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 4

**Greye's Notes:** For my dear sister, **Moon's Lullaby**. Many apologies for the delay! Sickness waits for no one. Neither does work. And neither of those are really good excuses so...away with them!

Here is the next story in this birthday series of oneshots. Please enjoy! (I mean that to anyone reading these as well!)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

Harriet was nervous. Her fingers rapped anxiously against her knee as she sat ramrod straight in the antique Victorian-era chair. Her green eyes cast around the room, taking in everything. The old-style decor, the lending toward darker themes (ebony door frames, deep emerald drapes, black marble fireplace, etc.). The atmosphere felt heavy and dark. And Harriet had plenty of experience with "dark" things.

A hand covered hers.

Despite herself, Harriet smiled faintly and turned to the boy next to her. "It's going to be alright you know," came his light tenor voice. It was always steady, always reassuring. Something she admired in him. Theodore's dark eyes might be intimidating to some, but for her they held only warmth and refuge. "You're just meeting my mum. Father's not...here...anymore." Theodore finished somewhat uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders under the heavy robes he wore. Now it was Harriet's turn to be reassuring. She patted his hand and smiled more genuinely.

"You're right, of course you are. And you're here with me. What could possibly go wrong?" Theo beamed back at her, and Harriet knew she'd said the right thing. She basked in his smile for a moment, momentarily forgetting where they were. A voice clearing behind them made her jump and she hastily pulled away from Theo on reflex, which she instantly regretted. Contact with him was the only thing keeping her nerves at bay. Seemingly reading her thoughts, she felt Theo's hand close around hers again. Harriet smiled, and managed to turn that genuine smile on the woman walking into the room behind them.

Harriet got to her feet, as did Theo, (that seemed the thing to do when the hostess entered a room in these kinds of places, Harriet reflected), and as she approached them Harriet studied Theo's mother. She was tall, like her son, but where Theo's dark eyes warmed his face, hers were cold and seemed to accentuate the angularity of her features. Her posture was perfectly erect, and she was primly dressed in a fine grey silk skirt and jacket ensemble that did little to soften her appearance. Harriet found herself inwardly surprised at Mrs. Nott's almost muggle appearance, and carefully hid that reaction from her face. She would have thought that for a family as ancient as the Notts...traditional dress would have been preferred.

She felt Mrs. Nott's eyes study her critically, almost with an undertone of...calculation, like she was sizing Harriet up for something. The girl felt perplexed. Sizing her up for what? Then the cold dark eyes flicked over to Theo and Harriet was surprised again to see them warm up, looking almost as warm and inviting as Theo's-though Harriet had no illusions that that warmth was for anyone but her son.

"Theodore!" Mrs. Nott had a surprisingly deep, melodic voice, and Harriet watched as this seemingly taciturn woman embraced her son with all the warmth she would expect of any mother. "Welcome home son."

"Hello Mum." Theo mumbled in response, his cheeks turning pink. Harriet stifled a giggle-he was clearly embarrassed.

The older witch drew back and studied Theo, then tsked as she finally released him. "You should visit more often. You're too thin! What are they feeding you at that school?" Harriet thought this was funny coming from a woman almost as thin as her son, but when Theo didn't respond with more than a light chuckle, she realized that Mrs. Nott's question had been rhetorical. _Ah. This must be one of those ritual things-patterns between mothers and children._ Harriet managed to avoid the old bitterness as she felt herself genuinely happy that Theo had a good relationship with his mother.

The woman gestured at them both to sit again, which Harriet did, heart now in her throat as the woman's dark eyes focused on her again. They weren't as cold as they had been before, but they certainly weren't as warm as they were when they looked at Theo.

There settled over them an uncomfortable silence. Well, uncomfortable to Harriet. She had the distinct impression that Mrs. Nott was deliberately trying to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps it was a test of some kind, to see how she did under pressure. Harriet managed to offer a small smile to the other woman, and counted that a victory. She had fought through life-threatening battles that weren't half as nerve-wracking as locking gazes with Theo's mother. Somehow, she didn't know how, she managed to maintain steady eye contact with the woman for what felt like hours-but was probably only a minute.

Finally-"And you must be Harriet." Mrs. Nott's voice curled around the pair. Unyielding, but not precisely malicious either.

Harriet suddenly released a breath she hadn't know she had been holding. The flash of triumph in Mrs. Nott's eyes made Harriet curse herself inwardly for having such an obvious reaction to the woman. Outwardly she thought she managed to appear neutral and polite fairly well. "Yes. It's very nice to meet you Mrs. Nott." The older woman's eyes flashed with something again, though this time Harriet wasn't sure what name to put to the emotion she saw there. Theo discreetly took her hand, and it was then she felt just how tense she really was. She forced herself to relax as naturally as she could, and even took a steadying breath when Theo's mother looked away from her face to take in their clasped hands.

"Theodore has told me much about you Harriet. I daresay he makes you out to be a veritable queen." Mrs. Nott's thoughts on that were clear in her tone. Harriet flushed, and snuck a quick look at Theo to see that he looked pretty red too.

"Mum..." He murmured, a slight plea in his voice.

Harriet realized she was supposed to respond. "I'm sure Theo was exaggerating whatever he told you," she couldn't resist shooting him an affectionate glance before turning back to Mrs. Nott, "he sees the best in people, and is quite a flatterer." She smirked slightly as Theo's face got redder. When he had first tried to ask her out, Theo had flattered her atrociously. The worst case of well-intentioned foot-in-mouth syndrome she had ever seen. It was endearing.

Harriet's green eyes trailed back to Mrs. Nott, and she could see that the woman's mouth had compressed into a thin line. Inwardly she gulped. Perhaps warming up to Theo's mother would be even harder than she'd thought. She hoped Theo would help her with the conversation.

Almost as if reading her mind, Mrs. Nott spoke directly to her son. "Theodore, there are some refreshments in the kitchen. I've given the house elves the day off-would you mind fetching them for us, dear?"

Theo nodded, "Of course Mum." He gave Harriet's hand a squeeze and murmured, "Be right back." The wizard got up and headed into the kitchen. Harriet desperately tried to quell the panic as she saw that flash of triumph in Mrs. Nott's eyes once again.

The uncomfortable silence was back, and this time Harriet couldn't find the inner fortitude to maintain eye contact with Theo's mum. So instead, she shifted on the uncomfortable antique chair, and took in the room furnishings-while trying desperately not to fidget too much with her hands. She could feel those dark eyes-so like Theo's, and so not-boring into her. Finally she could stand it no longer and her eyes met those of Mrs. Nott. To her surprise the other woman's face, so icy up to this point, actually smiled.

"Harriet, I must apologize for not greeting you very warmly to start. Theo has...not had very much success with girlfriends up to this point. Most have been more interested in his name and pureblood background." Mrs. Nott crossed her legs in a decidedly unladylike fashion and clasped her hands on top of her knee, black eyes not wavering from Harriet's face as the young witch silently absorbed this information. "Please understand that as his mother I am...rather protective."

Harriet managed to nod despite the nerves coiling in her stomach. She could sense that there was something else coming here, and swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat.

"I will not allow my son to be used, Miss Potter. I absolutely will not." Mrs. Nott's voice had become as cold as a winter night, and Harriet's eyes widened as Mrs. Nott seemed to grow larger. "Bear in mind that if you hurt my son, in anyway-first impressions notwithstanding-I will destroy you." Harriet felt her heart drop and her stomach clench, it was brutally clear that Theo's mum was not joking around. "Do not give me reason to come after you, Miss Potter. The Nott family name may be...tarnished...by my husband's foolishness...but we are far from diminished. Do not test it." Harriet swallowed again and barely avoided leaning back in her seat.

When Mrs. Nott didn't speak again, Harriet realized that it was her turn. "Mrs. Nott, please don't worry. It is not my intent to hurt Theo-I care for him very much. As you can imagine, I have enough of my own notoriety-I have no interest in his name or fortune. I am well enough off on my own. I care only for your son, as he is." While nervous and wavering at first, Harriet's voice gained in strength and confidence as she declared her affections and intentions. "Only time will prove my words, but you will see." Mrs. Nott stared hard at Harriet for several tense moments, before relaxing her gaze somewhat and leaning back against the couch she sat upon. Before either could speak again, Theo had entered the room.

The rest of the visit passed innocently enough, but Harriet was relieved when at last they were back at Hogwarts. "It was nice meeting your mum Theo. She really loves you." Harriet commented as Theo walked her toward the Gryffindor common room. It was his habit to walk her most of the way back to her rooms, and sometimes all the way to the Fat Lady. Theo beamed at her.

"I'm glad you like her. Most people I have introduced to her have told me she was really scary. But...well, she's my mum. She's always been there for me, and she always will. She basically raised me alone with my Father gone and all. I respect her alot, you know?" Theo's voice was warm when he spoke of his mother, and Harriet knew she definitely needed to get on Mrs. Nott's good side if she wanted to stay with Theo.

The Slytherin boy stopped and Harriet looked up in surprise to see the Fat Lady looking down on them with a knowing smirk. Time sure had gone by fast. Harriet turned to face Theo and smiled up at him, enjoying the warmth of his dark eyes. "Goodnight Theo. I'll see you at breakfast?" The Slytherin smiled faintly at her and leaned down to claim her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. A goodnight kiss. Harriet returned it and leaned up on tiptoe to press another light kiss to his cheek as he drew reluctantly away.

"At breakfast." He confirmed, voice quiet. Harriet watched him retreat down the corridor for a moment before giving the Fat Lady the password and slipping into her own common room.

It was so late that Harriet found herself quite alone, and she decided to sit on one of the inviting couches before the fire to ruminate over the evening's events.

Meeting Theo's mum had been...well, nerve-wracking, to say the least. She had a feeling that if her father were still alive, he would have had similar words to say to Theo. That thought made her smile. Mrs. Nott was a hard woman, that much was evident, but she clearly loved her son. She hadn't warmed up to Harriet yet though-that would take time, she knew. Harriet sighed and pushed herself to her feet, fatigue weighing her down. She headed up to her own dormitory, ready for sleep. It wasn't until she reached the door that it hit her. " _first impressions notwithstanding"._ That was what Mrs. Nott had said to her, in amongst the threats. Did that mean she had actually made a _good_ first impression? A genuine smile touched her lips as she withdrew into her bedroom.

* * *

Meanwhile, Mrs. Thora Nott was making a list:

 _Backbone-check_

 _Made nervous by mother-check_

 _True affection for Theo-check_

 _Not after money-check_

 _Not after fame-check_

 _Maybe this girl has a chance after all._

* * *

 **Notes _:_ ** Hey! Not super exciting, I know, but hopefully this got a little smile. Sorry again for the long wait between updates!


End file.
